Following Ashcoat's Lead
Smoketrail leans against the bar of The Ivy Canvas - an unnoteworthy example of the many taverns that dot the Enajian landscape - a bookbag slung across her chest. As she chats amiably with the bartender, nursing a colorful-looking drink, her gaze occasionally runs over the gradually growing clientele as offices start to close their doors and happy hours begin. The door swings open to admit a singular figure. Tall for a Sivadian woman, with stubble for golden hair and sleek sunglasses that obscure her eyes, her plain black clothing does little to affect the attention drawn by the other peculiarities of her appearance. To top it off, one hand rests lightly within the harness of a seeing-eye dog, a large and friendly husky who guides her to the bar through the customers. There the woman takes a seat with a quiet air of expectation, back perfectly upright. Smoketrail's gaze stutters upon this newest entrant, though she smoothly ties off her latest conversational thread with the bartender and excuses herself after finishing off the last swallow of her drink. "Mind bringin' another when we get settled at a table? And whatever the lady wants," she notes with a nod toward the odd blond as she slides toward the woman. "Miss Amelia," she greets amiably, gaze falling upon the dog for a moment with a sniff of curiosity. "Just a glass of a decent red," Amelia remarks, her voice crisp with the cut-glass accent of the upper-class. Her head turns toward the Demarian, though not facing her directly- off by a couple inches. "Smoketrail, was it? A pleasure. You'll have to excuse my unfortunate difficulties. They do not much hinder my actual work." Keeping a hand on the dog's back, she rises. "Augustus," the woman directs in a murmured alto as she nudges the harness in the direction of the Demarian's voice, "follow." "Got it," the bartender responds belatedly when he realizes that Amelia wouldn't see his usual wave of acknowledgment. Grinning sunnily, Smoketrail turns to lead the way toward one of the two corner booths still open. "Good to hear," she notes, her good humor audible in the drawling rumble, "Otherwise, I may not have enough to cover the tab for however many drinks it will take to get this done." Amelia permits herself a chuckle, following the husky's lead even as he follows Smoketrail's. She slides into one of the seats with minimal awkwardness, crossing her legs under the table demurely despite her casual clothing. A snap of fingers, and the dog lies down at her feet obediently. "Then I shan't waste your time. What exactly do you need me for?" Smoketrail's ears prick, vaguely impressed by the dog's prompt reactions to the woman's cues, before focusing upon the matter at hand. "I need someone who knows how to interpret numbers to look over some account reports," she says, tone still light though the levity is now notably absent, settling the book bag upon the table and sliding it across. "Tell me if there's something wrong - something that maybe someone would want to hide." She tilts her head curiously as she eyes the woman's features, hesitating upon an obvious question before closing her mouth again as she decides to simply wait for Amelia's response. "I hope you have this data in digital form? Paper is of course acceptable, but mildly inconvenient." A hand with short but manicured nails slips into her pocket, Amelia withdrawing a top of the line PDA that she sets on the table between them. "Unless you wish to hear my credentials before exchanging the actual information." Smoketrail shrugs, leaning back with arms crossed idly behind her head; slouching comfortably into the bench seat. "Not really necessary; I trust the referance, and I did a bit of follow-up of my own." She pauses as a waitress arrives with their respective drinks, snapping a grin of thanks after the woman before playfully swirling the bright-colored straw through the layers of orange and red liquid. "There's a datapadd in there with scanned copies. I wasn't exactly certain what format you wanted them, though, so brought everything just in case." Amelia puts her hand down flat on the table, cautiously running it forward along the wood until she finds her own glass- lifting it for a sip. "Well, then. I am unsure of where 'in there' might be, but if you could be so kind as to set the datapad next to my PDA..." The glass is returned to its place, and that busy hand moves up to the woman's sunglasses. They're tugged away, revealing two matching blue-green eyes and a glint of silver at her temple. "I'll review the information. Can you give me any more detailed suggestions? Irregularities such as funds being siphoned off, or months in which there are unnatural rises in revenue, or an unrealistic overall trend of financial growth?" "You're the number-cruncher," Smoketrail muses, ears twitching forward interestedly when the remainder of the woman's face is revealed. The Demarian reaches out to pluck the bag's cover open and slips out the electronic device to set it with a soft clack where Amelia has directed. "I'm just a grunt. You tell me." After a moment it becomes apparent that while one of those eyes is natural, the other is not. It's glass, superbly crafted but bearing a faintly unnatural sheen. Amelia 'looks' down at the clack, but with no sign of recognition. Into a pocket her hand goes, withdrawing neatly looped cords. The datapad's hooked to the PDA, and the PDA to her temple. Blond lashes flutter, as the woman downloads the information without a single button-press of a finger. "If you have no idea what specific irregularities you suspect, then I will check for all of them," she agrees in a distant voice, the records opening on her PDA's screen as soon as they're transfered. Smoketrail leans back again, eschewing the straw after mixing her drink into a murky swirl of toucan orange to sip directly from the glass. "It'd be appreciated," she responds, watching the woman's preparations closely until Amelia has settled into the reviewing stage. Then, the Demarian turns her attention to the husky as the next object of interest to indulge in while the woman works. "Don't suppose you'd like a drink too? It's on me," she muses, extending a paw for the animal to sniff if it wishes before venturing to pet its head. The dog is remarkably well-behaved, it seems. It does lift its head for a sniff with deep interest, but the scent of cat only prompts it to lick the petting paw and pant with comfortable contentment at the attention. Amelia chuckles with the mildness of a trained response, all her true attention focused on the records that scroll by her screen at paces impossible to read with the naked eye. Text windows open, calculations writing themselves across the blank space rapidly. The woman is true to her word- first constructing a chronological trend line for the numbers recorded, then looking for any instants within that time that deviate from the overall picture. Smoketrail snickers delightedly at the dog's response, no stranger to the irony and amiably ruffling the animal's ears. "A bowl of water?" she calls to the nearest passing waiter before shifting to a more comfortable position so that she may continue knuckling the husky while watching the flicker of screens upon the datapadd. "There's nothing very questionable about the overall image of the company," Amelia remarks, even as she writes a brief snippet of code to displays any individuals who received repeat loans. The loans that failed are called up in full detail, the woman canting her head at something invisible as she studies them for any similarities. "Without knowing exactly what you suspect, this is something of a hunt for a needle in a haystack... lucky for you, I am both quick and patient, and Augustus does not seem to mind the wait either." The dog wuffs amiably up at Smoketrail, rising to lean into her legs while his tail wags happily. "I appreciate the effort. I'll be happy t'reward your professionalism," Smoketrail assures, chuckling at the husky's seeming agreement and giving the dog some companionably thumps upon the side. "I suppose I should throw in some dinner too, then? From the smells, it seems they have a decent kitchen. What would either of you like?" "I'm not terribly hungry," Amelia says absently. "Ah, this is interesting... someone's been here before me. Have you had a previous person review these files?" She flips through the many windows she's opened to a few of the individual records, pursing her lips as she compares them side-by-side in search of similarities. This time, Smoketrail gives Amelia her full attention, eyes narrowed thoughtfully while her paw rests, forgotten, upon Augustus' back. "Interesting indeed. Not through any request of mine. Are you able to find out any information on who it was or where it came from?" "Possibly, but at the moment I am otherwise occupied... curious." There's a moment's pause while Amelia stops to think. "Several of these loans have been previously singled out by someone else who accessed this file- some of the ones that defaulted. The marked ones all show higher loan amounts within the individual records than are listed in the overall records. Very, very large loan amounts. To hide their size, other loans were noted as being defaulted upon, but if all of these loans -had- actually defaulted, they would be even deeper in the negatives than they are. I would suggest you look into the recipients of the indicated loans. -But-, it is possible whoever came here before me altered the records to throw those individuals into suspicion." Smoketrail's ears wilt unhappily to the sides as she tries to follow the interconnecting web of generalities. There is a moment as she mulls over the woman's words before nodding. "A good suggestion, one which I'll follow up on if you can compile a list for me. Anything else you can find? Would a hacker be able t'find anything more 'bout this mystery intruder's activities and identity?" "I am a hacker," Amelia murmurs. "If that's your primary interest right now..." Several windows close at once, the woman's eyelashes fluttering as she delves into the details of the file itself, looking for a timestamp on the most recent change and any other relevant information that could identify the file's lest editor. "That's a convenient set of skills you've got," Smoketrail notes admiringly, grinning toothily at her new furred-companion. "Right? You've certainly set yourself up fine in this life, haven't you?" she chatters to the dog, nudging the bowl of water when it arrives into a convenient place for Augustus. "Here is a name for you," Amelia remarks after a moment of the motionless search. "Ashcoat Lorekeeper marked the files while officially examining them. He did -not- alter the files in any way other than marking them. I should also note that the Director Mooncollar Stealthfoot signed off on all of the abnormally large loans, though you'll of course notice that when you peruse them yourself." A dry chuckle escapes her. "When you have conquered the language of numbers, there is little you -cannot- do." Augustus woofs cheerily, bowing his head to drink of the bowl with energy but not excessive thirst- a few gulps and he's done. Smoketrail nods absently at the names; if anything, slouching even lower into her seat as she ponders the information, folding her arms before her, Augustus now quite forgotten. "Mooncollar...I kinda remember that name. Do the numbers tell any stories 'bout the Sandwalkers? Any connections between all of 'em?" "One of the loans that was marked as defaulting without actually seeming to default by the numbers was to a business owned by a Sandwalker, but that's it- and I would focus more on the exceedingly large loans. The ones marked in the overview, if you want to take a look at them now and suggest a different path for me to follow." "Only one?" Smoketrail's muzzle wrinkles in a grimace before she nods, straightening. "Guess it was too much t'hope for that things be straightforward. All right. I'll follow your lead for now. Who were they to?" Amelia calls up the individual records on the datapad, through the PDA's control- a window appears next to them, listing the recipients of the large loans. "Any names ring a bell?" Smoketrail frowns absently as she goes over the list, turning the PDA to her orientation and going through the names twice before sighing and shaking her head. "No, nothing obvious. Any connections between the recipients? Or maybe the loans themselves? Timespan, what they were used for..." Amelia turns her attention to the records once more, perusing them for such biographical data- focusing primarily on the intended purposes of the loans, if such information is listed. "I wouldn't know about connections between the recipients without a very thorough search... this may require some hours of work." Smoketrail nods as she begins to pack up the bag and the papers. "Fair enough. How 'bout I leave the datapad with you - I'll count on your record of discretion. I can go take care of some other minor errands while you have some uninterrupted time with it." "That shall suffice," Amelia decides after a moment, sparing a slight nod. "I will remain here until your return, and see what else I can glean from the chaff." One hand slips under the table, Augustus padding over to lean into it for a head-scratching. "I think at this point, I may need to step outside the records..." The woman pulls up another window, and begins searching out information on the recipients of the loans. When the Demarian returns to the bar, Amelia is exactly where she was left. Outwardly placid, the Sivadian's gone so far as to simply fold her hands in her lap, the only motion about her the fluttering of blond lashes. Probably out of boredom, Augustus has fallen asleep across her sneaker-clad feet. Yet for all this outward inactivity, the screen of the PDA races and flickers with psychedelic speed. Smoketrail detours by the bar after noting Amelia's position, the bag slung over her shoulder a bit heavier now from recent purchases. Ever the thoughtful host, she gathers up two drinks and heads toward the booth, sliding a full glass before Amelia before taking a seat herself. "Hey boy," she rumbles, toeing the husky's ribs lightly; barely ruffling the fur. "I was told by the nice lady at the store that y'might like this," she says as she withdraws a small package from the bookbag and unwraps a bone-shaped gnawing-treat, laying it down for the dog. "Welcome back. And thank you," Amelia adds, reaching for the drink. A sip to wet her throat, and she comments with slight amusement- perhaps feeling how Augustus's tail begins to wag- "Ah, you'll spoil him. I suppose it should do no harm, however." The dog is certainly thrilled enough, seizing the treat and worrying it between his teeth with mighty shakes of his head. "...So, I continued my research. Curiously, it appears these sizable loans were given without an actual physical location, excepting only one. This may imply the entire sum was directed to that single location and concealed through the various false locations and post office boxes. Or, it may not. Perhaps the location will mean something to you." The woman slides the PDA across the table, the record of that loan blinking. "Hey, he's a fellow furred folk. Reminds me a bit of my own kits when they were still cute and dumb. You could distract them with a good scratching and some food...now it's I want this an' I want that..." Smoketrail quips with a last rub of the dog's ears before she sobers, reaching for the PDA with a crease in her brow. "At the very least it's questionable, authorizing such large loans to businesses without a solid place of residence," Amelia murmurs. "I would say it's beginning to look to me as if someone outright gave a large amount of money to someone else, underneath this rigmarole- money that was not theirs to give." She idly reaches under the table to scratch Augustus' head as the dog settles down to cheerily gnaw away. "Is that what you might expect? Since obviously you had a reason to come to me." "I tried not t'have any expectations," Smoketrail rumbles absently, looking up the address' location to double-check her memory. "Didn't know what was wrong, was just told that somethin' was. It's not obvious how it's immediately useful t'my ultimate goal...but seein's how someone already got shot up for giving this out, I guess it's important enough t'track down, even if it does end up being a detour instead of leading me to the target." A sigh as her ears sink unhappily, and she mutters, perhaps unconsciously, "Still can't leave the place alone." "Shot up? Goodness." Amelia's pale brows rise. "I hope my involvement can remain entirely under the table. I don't like to be associated with such dealings. And really, if this massive deviation in funds doesn't somehow correspond to your problem, I'm sure it does correspond to -something- less than ideal in terms of the law." She lifts her glass, sipping with an absent frown. "If you wished to provide me with more information I could wager a more educated guess. In this circumstance my brain's output is limited more by a dearth of input than by any insufficient processing power." Smoketrail's eyes slit with a wry smirk. "I'll be dependin' on your discretion just as much," she drawls. "So, for all of our interests, this remains just between us. 'Sides, I expect this type of mutt's the kind that throws himself bravely between his mistress an' danger, right?" she purrls with another brush of her boot's toe against the furry shoulder. "Can't put him at risk." Nodding, she takes the time to for a few swallows of her own previously untouched drink before answering, "I'm checking up on one of the presidential candidates of Demaria - Twinstripes Sandwalker. I won't deny I don't like his character, attitude, or arguments; it just makes the work easier. But if he's definitively involved in anything that hurts the city or takes from it what he shouldn't, I'll do everything in my power to make sure he never sits in that seat." Amelia ahs mildly, inclining her shorn head. "Then the logical next step would be to ascertain if he has ties to the director who signed off on those loans. If not, nor any ideological ties that benefit the one recipient organization with the physical location- I would say you have someone else's crime on your hands. ...You need not fear, I am a professional. This job will not be discussed with anyone. Not even, dare I say, Augustus." Smoketrail gives a chuff of amusement. "If you will even go to such lengths as that, I'll sleep easy tonight. You're right...any ties t'anything right now would be useful. Regardless of whether the company actually has any ties to anything relevant, though, I'll go exploring; as you say, someone went to a lot of trouble to hide a lot of money, meaning someone else - most likely the law - would disapprove. You think you can dig anything more up with some time, or do I need to start considering physical explorations?" "If you know naught of any connection already, then I shall wander down that path a moment-" Amelia falls into silence for a minute, windows winking into momentary brightness onto her PDA with all the lifespan of mayflys. "...Curious. I am not *overly* well-educated on Demarian politics, but it seems that this entire organization- this NADC- was only passed when Tuftcheek Longvision allowed Twinstripes Sandwalker to pick its director. His pick being one Mooncollar Stealthfoot, she of the curious financial acumen in approving these loans." Smoketrail waits patiently as the woman works, sipping at her drink and watching the flicker of the screen with all a predator's keen fascination, tail-tip twitching, before Amelia's announcement has her leaning forward in satisfaction. "Slim and circumstantial, but it's definitely somethin' t'work with. Are there any other ties between Mooncollar and Twinstripes, besides his appointing her and her willingness to sign off everything and anything? Any signs of where all that money ended up, if it's not all still sitting somewhere under the company's direct control?" "Where the money went... I can't find out. To a trading company with precious little detail," Amelia mutters, pale brow creasing. "Lord, what a tangled web this is." She exhales, shaking her head. "I'll see what I can find out about this company, but it very well may necessitate physical investment. If they too are a cover..." "Well, if you don't mind being my partner for a little while more, Miss Amelia, I'm more'n happy t'take care of the crawling through dust and web-infested ductwork while you handle the electronic forays," Smoketrail offers cheerfully, swirling the remainder of her drink with the unused straw. "Tell me what I should look for, gimme the floor plans and security, and I'll make a pass at it in a few days." "I am rather inept at physical investigation, for obvious reasons." Amelia's voice is as dry as the desert, though she moistens it with a sip of wine. "...It seems information on the company is incredibly scarce. They paint themselves as a beginning business that never followed through. However, if I investigate building permits for the location listed, I may be able to pull the architect's name and hunt down the blueprints... It's a long shot, I warn you now. But I shall certainly supply you with what is within my power to find." And the windows begin their dance once more. Smoketrail inclines her head, following it up with a verbal, "I appreciate it. Buildings have a habit of bein' changed while they're built too, or after the residents move in...I'll try to confirm the details from another source before I actually break in, but maybe this'll haveta stay ad hoc and exciting," she muses, tail thumping lazily upon the bench seat as she contemplates the potential adventure. "Excitement is overrated," Amelia drones. A pregnant pause ensues, almost unnaturally prolonged. "...Ah. This is, inevitably, something of a standard design used in New Alhira's residential and commercial zones. Well. That -is- lucky. I can easily obtain a copy of the blueprints, if that standard layout is not familiar to you." "It's strange, t'hear myself say I'm glad that we had to do so much building in such a limited amount of time," Smoketrail huffs, shaking her head. "I am somewhat familiar already with them, but a blueprint would be useful anyway. Are there any remarks on its security?" "Would that we should be so lucky," Amelia says dryly, transferring a model blueprint over to the datapad with the blink of an eye. "But no. I've nothing on the -current- state of the place, as the loan left me without even an individual contact." Smoketrail makes an interested sound as she tilts the screen up for her to examine the display, quiet for a few long moments as she makes a cusory scan of the blueprint details. "Are there any city cameras that happen to look over the building's exterior? Are you able t'find any footage of what goes on around it - who or what comes and leaves?" "Does New Alhira actually engage in full street surveillance? Give me a moment to find that out... and of course, I must note that there may not be a camera, but we can certainly install one," Amelia muses, the PDA flickering chaotically once more. "Or rather, I can provide you with the camera and you can install it." Smoketrail chuckles, waving the matter aside. "Understood. And the cameras aren't *everywhere*...but since New Alhira's still pretty small and we were able t'plan its building from the ground up 'stead of simply retrofitting what our ancestors built, we could afford t'put in some extra infrastructure. Cameras're cheap. Live patrols're expensive. I just don't know if that was one of the areas that was so lucky." "Soon as I've obtained any information one way or the other, we'll know," Amelia murmurs. "And when you go inside, we can put a small bug on you as well. It shall be a good field test for the capabilities remaining to my brain." "Sounds good...it'll be like old times," Smoketrail muses wistfully, settling back in her seat as she continues going over the blueprints, this time in more detail. "I used to have a rider. Was always a little more reassuring, even if they were sittin' too far away to do more than yell at you for bein' a shaven idiot." "A... rider." Delicately landscaped brows rise as Amelia confesses, "I've not heard it called such before, but the term is fitting. Yes, I will be a rider- and if you've no objects, you can be the test pilot for my sonar emitters. ...mmm, it seems the location is too far on the periphery to be in the network." "Things had been going a little too smoothly to have that fall into our laps as well," Smoketrail nods before briskly rubbing her palms together. "Guess bold adventure it is, then. Sonar emitters?" she ponders with a flick of her whiskers in curiosity. "You'll haveta explain those - that sounds interesting. I'll take a day to survey the area, and figure out where t'put the cameras on the second day." "My brain's vision centers are completely destroyed. Not even cybernetic eyes will return my sight," Amelia explains, a touch brusquely. "However, I have full capacity to hear and I have retained my abilities as a mathematical savant. If I can design small objects that both emit sonar and decode it into numerical data, I should be able to use what spatial senses I have left to construct a mental map of my surroundings. Rather like a dolphin, if you are familiar." "Ah. Interesting," Smoketrail hums, hesitating for a brief moment before curiosity gets the better of her, and she surreptitiously peers a little more closely at the woman across from her, as if a visual examination might divulge more insights. "Dolphin...sounds familiar...oh, that fish thing that's in all the Sivadian crests, right? Don't know much about them, but I know the tech you're talking 'bout. Know one or two companies that make good miniature ones for mapping lock mechanisms." A gamine grin accompanies the offhand remark as she unconsciously tugs her sleeves back, as if preparing to sink her paws into potentially dirty work. "All right. How 'bout you ship me what you want me t'carry and hook up for you t'reduce our contact. I'll let you know when I've got the cameras set up, and when I've observed enough that I feel as confident as I can get in making some on-site explorations. We'll do a few tests beforehand to make sure you're getting the link okay and everything's working, then we'll set a date to do the real thing." "Acceptable," Amelia says evenly, reaching to lift her wineglass and drain it to the dregs. Those blue-green eyes show no recognition of the scrutiny, logically enough. "I shall endeavor on completing the designs and getting them crafted as soon as possible. You have my contact information, correct?" "I'll get a hold of you," Smoketrail agrees confidently, sliding out of the booth. "Lemme know your rates for the extra work too, when you send over the stuff. You're reasonable, so I'm not too worried, but best t'get the details out of the way first so's we can concentrate on other stuff." "Mmm. Typically my rates depend on how much I enjoy what I'm doing," Amelia muses, remaining seated. "I shall include an invoice, I suppose. Don't worry, it shall not be astronomical. I live quite comfortably upon my main occupation's funds." Smoketrail chuckles, leaning down to ruffle Augustus' ears one last time. "Do I get discounts for giving your dog the royal treatment?" she asks with sly teasing. "I shall deduct the approximate cost of his toy at the least," Amelia replies, expression markedly deadpan- but for the slight curve of a smile. Smoketrail snorts loudly in amusement. "Nah, keep it. Call it a tip," she retorts as she slings the book bag over her shoulder once more. "Until next time, Miss Amelia," she concludes as she heads for the tavern's exit. "Until next time," Amelia concurs, calmly and evenly, as the PDA's lights finally go dead. Category:Classic Social logs Category:Classic Demarian logs Category:Classic Demaria logs Category:DemArc The Noble Gambit